“When I understood what he was planning,” my mother went on, “I knew I had proof, but I also knew it was on a fragile little card in a phone he mocked and could take from me any time.

So I took the memory card out of the phone, and I sealed it inside a small metal capsule — the one that had belonged to your father.

He used to keep a little Saint Jude medal inside it.

He always said small things can protect big promises.”

“And you hid it,” I said.

“I meant to.